Oh, how I hated him. How I hate him to his very core, how he was the one who saved the world. How he has freedom, while I am trapped within steel walls. It pains me to say that he is as heroic as they say, that he holds power beyond anyone else's potential.
Yet, he acts unaware of his deeds, ignorant of the kings who laugh at him, make a fool out of him. He's oblivious! He can hardly even speak proper english! Meanwhile, I could read and write as well as any other. I learned the magicks of the ancients and crafted weapons with the aid of a blacksmith. I suffered and toiled like anyone else, letting my rage build up, using it as pure motivation!
And yet, I was trapped. The princess saw my potential. She was scared of me, I believe. Terrified, even. Maybe I speak too highly of myself, but I knew from the very moment she appointed me as Court Magician that she saw some sort of danger. She kept me on a leash, kept an eye on me so that I was not the one who cut her head clean off. She must have known that it was best to keep friends close and enemies even closer.
If only she had done the same to young Peter, assuming he was too dumb to even put a coherent thought together. Then she would have been able to tarnish every piece of land there, poison it with her smog and sludge, with all the factories her cronies produce. She'd let me watch the proceedings, force us both to watch Mother Nature cry and shrivel into nothing, watch as what was once green become a steely gray. She'd laugh and she'd laugh at our misery of losing everything we worked for, giggle at how we desperately try to live in a world covered in filth, and smile as we draw in smog and choke on it as our last breath.
If she had done that, she'd probably still be alive. But she had not, and I am left with a mixture of joy and hatred. I wanted to be the one who ended her, so that all would know that not all heroes were like oblivious Peter, who did things without thinking and everything else falls into place. That destiny and fate had nothing to do with heroism. That there would be someone who realized that there was more than just Princess Pollution out there, still destroying what little greenery we have, and that they would stand against this and more.
Alas, they cheered his name and named a parade in his honor, gave him the feast of his life, while I was forced into serving the Machina Monarch.
They certainly did know how much of a threat I could be. Why else would I be forced into such an... odd form? Honestly, they expect anyone to take me seriously when I can hardly reach the kitchen cabinets without help? I have covered my face with an iron mask so I look a bit more menacing, but a mask won't help with issues of height. I hear lords and ladies laugh at my current state as they pass my quarters, saying that I had better make up my intimidation with powerful skills.
Ugh. I have written too much. My blood still boils at any mention of Peter, guardian of Mondel. He probably is sitting on his arse, oblivious as ever. I suppose I should be thankful for my place amongst the villains, though. It allows me to challenge him and knock sense into him. It also gives me a better look into operations, so I can plan accordingly.
I must be proactive, compared to him. I must. I must I must I must I must. Because what if his impulsiveness gets him killed? Then what? Who will destiny turn to then?
My heart could not bear the pain, should the so-called "hero" fall and the planet, sucked dry, as the chains binding me grow ever tighter.
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